Break A Few Eggs
by LEP-Surface Division
Summary: Conan is skilled in many things, but cooking isn't one of them. What happens when Ran tries to teach him?  ConanXRan fluff with darker undertones.


**A/N: *Cough* Well, originally this was going to be chapter 7 of _The Time Trap_, but I chose to go in a different direction. It's been heavily tweaked, so you don't need to read The Time Trap to understand this, and vice-versa.**

**This is just a little ConanXRan fluff piece, with some darker undertones. It doesn't make much sense, but rather than throwing it out, I figured someone might enjoy reading it.^_^**

**Read, review, and enjoy!**

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Conan slumped down on the couch, remote in hand as he flipped unseeingly through the channels. He'd hit a brick wall with his investigation into the disappearance of a local physics teacher that Kogoro had been hired to look for. The man had left home one night, and Conan couldn't seem to come across any trace of the guy. It was likely the man had disappeared of his own free will, but he had to consider the possibility that he'd been kidnapped for one reason or another. The whole thing was just so _frustrating_.

Eventually some part of his brain chimed in with the fact that he'd looped through all of the channels several times now, and he mashed the power button like it was to blame for the man's disappearance. The tv went black, and the room fell silent, with the exception of the still sleeping detectives snoring, audible all the way from the bedroom. His alarm had gone off over an hour ago at 10 O'clock, though both he and Ran had already been up long before then. Not that that was unusual. Ran had gone out shopping around that time to buy something to make for breakfast. She had wanted to wait until her father had gotten up to ask him for his preference, but had decided to just go ahead and leave once their stomachs had started growling.

He'd asked if he could go, just to get out of the house and, frankly, to spend some time with her. But Ran had said something along the lines of "you don't want to go shopping with me, it's really boring! Besides, don't you have homework you need to do?" She'd hidden it behind a cheerful tone, a bright smile and a little bit of teasing, but he could still tell. Kogoro must have lost all of his money at mahjong last night. Again. They barely had enough money to scrape together a meal or two every day, and he still went out drinking and gambling every chance he got. And Ran... Ran didn't want him to know. Did she think he didn't notice? Was she lying, to keep him from worrying about it?

And that brought him back full circle, to the investigation. If he could only figure out where the man had gone, he could help. They'd been promised a minimum of 50,000 by his wife, and if they could find him quickly she said she'd be more than happy to pay a bonus. But the man had been missing for four days now; they'd been looking for him for three. He'd looked and looked, but there was just no evidence _anywhere_.

He quietly seethed for a moment, a rare opportunity to drop his mask and let the anger, frustration, heartache and _fear_ that he kept inside himself spill out. He was quiet, so as not to wake the sleeping detective, but this wasn't the kind of thing that crying would help with anyway. Crying never helped anything. He just let the emotions run rampant through him, careful only to keep from running his fingers through his hair.

Several minutes past before the sound of a key in the lock startled him, and suddenly the tormented expressions were gone, replaced by a stare blanker than a white piece of unmarred paper, trying to regain his composure. Ran stepped inside a moment later, two paper bags held under her arm, and he could tell they were heavy just from the way she carried them. He jumped from his seat, plastering on a smile, just as she did as soon as she saw him running up. "Here, let me help!" he chirped, reaching for the lighter of the two. He knew she would never allow him to take the heavier one.

"Thanks," she said, her voice a little strained as she tried to let the bag slip from between her elbow and abdomen while she held the one against her chest firmly in place. Conan caught it, chagrined as his biceps immediately began to burn from the strain. He followed Ran into the small eat-in kitchen where they each set their bags on the table, Conan having to all but lift the bag above his head to do so.

"What'd you get?" he asked, genuinely curious. To answer, she reached inside and pulled something out. "We haven't had a Western-style breakfast for a while, so I picked up some eggs, and some stuff to make pancakes with."

"Mmm! That sounds good!" he cheered. But it was simply to hide the darker thoughts creeping through his mind.. _Eggs, flour, milk, butter. She didn't decide to get these. It was all she could afford._ As she continued to empty the bags and place their contents on the table, stashing the empty paper bags under the sink for future use, he noticed they were the off brands and generics as well. _Ran... Just how bad is it?_

He didn't bother putting anything away as it would all just have to be dragged back out. She had two pans warming on the stove, presumably, as she said, for pancakes and eggs. She doubled back toward the table, grabbing the bag of flour, then looking down at the other ingredients. She must have seen something in his face, some sort of worried look, for it was then that she asked "Hey, Conan-kun?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to help me?"

It took him by surprise. The phrase was usually not a question at all, but Ran had asked it in a completely genuine way, and it seemed like she'd find either answer perfectly acceptable. So, whether because he was having a particularly bad day, or because he was worried about her and wanted the chance to talk with her, or because he was feeling useless for not being able to track down a physics professor who was probably just having some mid-life crisis and decided to split town, he found himself nodding. "Sure. What do you need?"

She smiled down at him gently, a smile that could simultaneously melt and shatter his heart. "Could you bring the eggs over?" Then, as an afterthought, "And you might want to bring a chair so you can see."

Scooting a chair out from the table with one hand, carton of eggs held securely in the other, he made his way to the stove before crawling up and standing on the seat, dignity shattering into a million pieces. He could see now that both pans had a dab of butter in the bottom, mostly melted into a brownish-yellow liquid that was boiling slowly as the heat continued to rise.

And while Conan might have been able to tell you almost anything you wanted to know in almost any subject you could imagine, one area that had always escaped him was cooking, so the question he asked was not to try and look childish, but out of genuine curiosity. "Why did you melt butter in the pans?"

Ran giggled, unable to hide her amusement, then ruffled his hair when he looked vaguely annoyed. "Sorry, it's just not often that I know something you don't. I guess I just feel kind of privileged." He could feel a faint heat that ebbed and flowed to the rhythm of his accelerating heartbeat, though hopefully it wasn't enough to tint his cheeks red. "I do it for the eggs," she said, a spatula she'd grabbed from somewhere acting as an impromptu pointer aimed at the pan in front of him, "so that they don't stick. It also makes them taste a little better, but that's just my opinion."

"And the pancakes?" he asked.

"Mmm, sort of the same reason," she hummed. "It keeps them from sticking, but there's already butter in the batter so it doesn't really make them taste any different. But," she grinned, bending at the knee so that she was looking him straight in the eye, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "It's how I always make them just how dad likes them. Nice and golden all the way around, without the sides being undercooked or the center being burned." She gave him a wink, saying "But that's our little secret. He thinks I'm just some sort of pancake guru."

"Oh really?" he smiled, a genuine smile. It felt good to not have to hold Conan's fake childish grin up, if only for a moment.

Straightening back up, she asked "Can you go ahead and get an egg out for me?" As he did so, she went about emptying quite a bit of flour into a large bowl, which she then went on to add a bit of both milk and butter.

Conan handed her the egg like it was a live grenade, like the slightest bit of pressure would make the shell shatter like glass. It strangely reminded her of Shinichi, who she happened to know had never cracked an egg in his life. It got her wondering. "Hey, Conan-kun?" she asked. "Have you ever cracked an egg before?"

He thought back, not just through his days as Conan, but as Shinichi as well, trying to remember _ever_ cracking an egg, and coming up blank. "I don't think so."

"Really?" she asked, apparently surprised. Then, "Well, I guess if you haven't done it here... I mean, you _were_ pretty young when you first came to stay with us." With the egg he'd handed her a moment ago already safely cracked and the ingredients for the pancakes all together, she started stirring the mix, though her attention was still locked on Conan. "Well, feel like giving it a try?" Again, he sensed that the question was completely open. No matter which option he chose, he knew Ran wouldn't be disappointed.

"I... don't want to mess anything up..." he said hesitantly. It was the truth. He could just see himself, going to crack an egg and hitting it too hard, sending bits of shell flying into the pancake mix. That was about his luck when it came to anything in the kitchen, spare the occasional homicide.

She giggled again, that same sound that told him she enjoyed being able to teach him something for once. Before he knew what was happening, she was standing behind him, her right hand pressed against the back of his own, and a blush that was much too warm to not color him red blooming across his entire head. "Don't be silly, it's nothing to be afraid of. I'll show you how to do it. Like this." She moved his fingers around an imaginary egg, then walked him through how to crack it against the side of the bowl.

She grabbed his left hand, bringing them together over the imaginary shape, forcing his thumbs down and then his hands to pull apart. "And that's all there is to it." And then the cool, white egg was sat in his palm. He looked at it, a dubious expression passing over his features for a fleeting moment.

Then, with a surge of confidence, he tapped the egg against the pan. Nothing. He blinked, bringing it up in front of his nose to examine. "You have to hit it a little harder," Ran instructed. "Just not too hard, ok?"

He pulled the egg away slightly, tapping it against the pan once more. Still nothing. His cheeks burned as he brought the egg back for the third time, hitting it a little bit harder. Not even a crack. "Don't be afraid to break it," Ran said, a smile evident in her tone. Embarrassment soaring through the roof, he pulled back one more time, and _slammed_ the egg into the pan.

It seemed to shatter in his hands, and it took him a moment to realize that his face and glasses had just been spatter with egg whites. The bulk of the egg had thankfully been carried by its momentum, winding up in the pan and not dripping down into the hot burner. But as he looked, he saw little specs of egg _everywhere_. On the cabinets, on top of the pancakes, thick globs of egg whites and shell were still stuck to his hands, and he felt like he couldn't move, lest he make the situation worse.

Then, to his utter bewilderment, he felt Ran gently shaking behind him. A moment later, he heard the laughter she was trying to hold in. "Lets-" she stopped mid sentence, a fit of giggles taking over. He didn't think he'd ever been more embarrassed in his life. He could feel slimy egg in his hair as it slowly slid down his scalp, and as Ran had moved he could feel specs of moisture on both of their arms.

Taking notice, Ran turned him around to look at her, not giving a care in the world as his hands dripped egg on the floor. "It's ok, don't worry about it."

Her tones only made him feel more childish than he already had, but he still nodded, muttering an apology barely above a whisper. "I'll help clean up."

She regarded him for a minute, before grabbing a towel hanging over the oven handle. "I realize you might not be used to it," she said in a light, teasing tone. She looked him right in the eye, switching to a gentle, loving tone by the time she spoke again. "But everyone makes mistakes." It was more like she was speaking to her son than the enthusiastic little boy she'd taken in and grown so attached to. The little boy that had appeared, right when she needed him most. Right when she'd been at her weakest, when Shinichi had disappeared, and been there ever since. Like he was an angel sent to protect her, to help her along. She couldn't fathom how she could have possibly made it without his smile to come home to everyday.

When he couldn't quite meet her gaze, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, egg whites or not. "After all," she went on a little quieter. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs." She pulled back, surprised at her own reluctance to let him go, pushing some of his egg speckled bangs out of his face. "Why don't you go clean yourself up while I try and tackle the kitchen?"

He looked like he was about to protest, but deflated. "Hai, Ran-neechan." He hopped off the chair, trudging towards the living room and, beyond it, the bathroom.

"But when you come back," she said. "How would you feel about giving it another try?"

She couldn't see his face, so she wasn't sure what was going through his head. His step faltered, and though he never turned to face her, he stopped nonetheless. "I... I think I would like that." He held his head up higher before taking off for the bathroom once more, and Ran continued to stare long after the door had fallen shut behind him.


End file.
